


Step Back

by baiku (KasMuna)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: BFFs gone Bad, Battlefield, Bitterness, M/M, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-05-30 15:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6430828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KasMuna/pseuds/baiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is still young, Impactor has joined the Autobots, Megatron leads the Decepticons. Despite resigning to take down the Decepticons, Impactor struggles with the reality of having to kill his best friend, and Megatron isn't having it any easier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Step Back

The battlefield was covered with twisted and leaking corpses of mechs of all sizes and frames. Cybertron's ground now a harvest of death, and in the middle stood the grim reaper. Shot after shot, strike after strike he ended the lives of Autobot soldiers. The Decepticons threw themselves readily to battle, to die moments later.  
  
This was _wrong_. Sick and _wrong_ and **_disgusting_**.

\--  
  
Impactor charged, the hesitation he’d had fading with each step he took on a dead someone. All of them dead because of the mech in front of him. Megatron.  
  
The first blow, an attempted stab to the warlord’s side, was blocked with little effort. Impactor’s mere visage had more effect than the attack itself. Megatron was taken aback for a moment, but then he pushed the Wrecker away, his voice laden with fury. It didn't take Impactor but few steps to close the small gap again.  
  
“Why do you keep **fighting** me, Impactor?” Megatron took a punch to his gut, strong enough to make his abdominal plates dent. He stepped back to stabilize himself, and launched a counter of his own. No time to stall with words, he had to fight.   
  
“You keep killing people!” The blow only grazed Impactor's shoulder, and he sounded _distressed_ in his reply. But when he ducked to dodge, he invited Megatron to knee right up, knocking him in the jaw. Impactor 'oof'ed, and fell right on his back.  
  
“I’m in WAR! How many Decepticons have you slain? We fight for freedom– even you wanted this.”  
  
“ _I did **not** ,_” Impactor growled and rose again, his chin seeped little trickles of energon from where Megatron's sharp knee had hit his chin. This time he charged in with his drill screaming and a battle-cry even louder.  
  
Megatron dodged again, but not without mangling his fingers on the relentlessly spinning tool when pushing himself away. That time he used to step back, cursing his leaking hands.  
  
“Impactor, I’m not killing anyone but those who want to kill **_us_**! The Autobots are our enemy,” he paused, not closing in nor preparing an attack. Instead, Megatron whispered, offering his hand. “ _Join me. **Please.**_ ”  
  
He was genuine. Megatron himself understood how much Impactor meant for him. He had his best friend to thank for his survival in the pits of Kaon. His best friend to thank for every opinion he gave on whatever he wrote. It was Impactor's fights in which Megatron had learned, unintentionally, how to ruin a mech. It was Impactor whose words stuck to him.  
And that’s why he cried out in pain when Impactor leaped on him, crashing him down on the unforgiving surface of his now-ruined planet, instead of avoiding the attack. Megatron had hoped, in vain. And now he got pushed tight on the ground, weapon, no, tool, to his neck.  
  
“ _Not in a million years._ ” Punch. “You’re a killer, Megs–” Impactor sneered at the nickname, stilled his fist and instantly it began to shake. He snarled down at Megatron.  
  
It was his best friend who looked up at him, face bloodied, optic broken and a drill on his throat. Despite the grimace of battle he wore on his face, he looked more familiar to Impactor now than he had in decades.  
  
“Stop this-” Impactor couldn’t finish himself. He couldn’t say _‘give up’_ to Megatron. He couldn’t.  
And his expression shifted when realizing that.  
  
“I **can’t** stop.”  
  
Megatron said it with not a smidgen of uncertainty, even if Impactor already knew. They looked at each other, now silent. As the moment dragged longer, hate waned, both their faces twisting from a grimace to a sorry sneer in pity for themselves.  
_Fate, God, whatever higher power there was or wasn’t, was cruel to them._  
  
_Now_ Impactor **felt** Megatron underneath himself, between his legs. He felt him, and his frame working hard. The pistons at his groin joints pressed against Megatron's sides as they pulled taut from spread. Megatron's armor was hot from the fight, dirtied by dried Energon, hands covered in death. The grill on Megatron's abdomen vented hot air up, a warmth blowing in of each gap Impactor had down on his thigh and hips. Megatron's flow of mechanical breath was much more fuel-laden, cleaner in scent, whereas Impactor's smelled of the same dirty mix of metal powder and systems working on low-grade Energon as it always did.  Impactor shuddered.  
Underneath him was a powerful, strongly humming body, ready to take whatever gets thrown at it. Unyielding to anything but one thing. Just like the mech himself.   
  
“Gh,” Megatron groaned when the drill on his throat pressed down, and his foe growled in frustration. Fist struck at his shoulder, weakly. The miner... _**soldier**  _on top him was tense, his powerful thighs flexing when he moved, clenching onto Megatron's waist. His lips parted and he let out a groan, not from extertion but from looking up and seeing that familiar face, feeling the familiar warmth and hearing the same purring of an engine he so well knows. Despite this, Impactor had spark so full of doubt. Megatron was breathing into him, and he was powerless.  
  
Finally, recovering from the standstill, Impactor lifted his hand to pry Megatron’s off of the drill. He lifted up the hand, clumsily held it for several seconds, and then a squad of Cons made themselves known.

Laser fire hit the purple armor of his back in rapid succession, and a stronger shot toppled the Wrecker completely.  
  
Megatron shuffled up in a blink, kicked Impactor to make sure he stayed, and headed off to lead his troops. He slid from one scene to another, adopting his role as the leader of the Decepticons again. No trouble.   
  
When Impactor got up, smoke rising from his gunshot wounds, he noticed the new bodies around. The time hadn’t stopped when he was with Megatron. Everyone else had kept going, more people died, and he did nothing. There was something wickedly poetic about the situation, but as soon as the thought entered his head,  Impactor screamed out in anger and lashed at the battlefield. 

 _'I should've killed Megatron_ ,' he thought for the first time.


End file.
